


Dreams, Delusions and Deceptions

by Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite



Series: House of the Dragon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood of the Dragon, Dragons, Fire and Blood, Fix It, House Targaryen, Rewrite, Targaryen Dynasty, Targaryens - Freeform, Viserra lives, good Queen alysanne, house of the dragon - Freeform, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24571306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite/pseuds/Queen_Rhaenas_Favourite
Summary: Viserra Targaryen, tenth born child of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, has been betrothed to the Lord of White Harbor. But Viserra is young, vain and beautiful, she knows she will never be content in the life that destiny and her mother have chosen for her, so she does everything in her power to stop it.But is that enough?
Series: House of the Dragon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775977
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	1. Destiny

Theomore Manderly. Lord of White Harbor. Four times a widower. _My future husband,_ Viserra thought bitterly. She had never met the man, but she’d heard tell from numerous sources that he was as wide as he was tall and close to four times Viserra’s age. _He’s old enough to be my grandfather,_ and Lord Manderly did indeed have grandchildren that were of an age with the princess. 

For as long as she could remember, Viserra has been the object of desire for practically every man who ever laid eyes on her. But there had only been one that she had wanted; Baelon. Her brother was almost fourteen years her senior, _but_ _better fourteen years than forty._

Baelon had been wed to their sister Alyssa for as long as Viserra could remember, and since her death three years ago he had not been the same. 

Queen Alysanne has guessed that Viserra wished to marry Baelon, Viserra has heard her mother say as much to their father one night, when she’d been listening in on their conversation. “ _She’s too ambitious by half,” the Queen said._

_“She’s young, and Baelon is as good a man as any, the sort of prince songs will be sung about for years to come” King Jaehaerys said, dismissively. “It’s only natural for girls to want him, Viserra included.”_

_“That’s not the reason for her,” Alysanne protested. “Not all of it at least. She wants to be Queen.”_

_“If she wanted to be Queen she would go for Aemon,” her father sighed. “Either way, you needn’t worry, Baelon loved Alyssa too much. I doubt he’ll wed again.”_

It had been to her father that Viserra turned first when she learned of her betrothal. _“Please, father. Not him, anyone but him. He’s older than you are, I will never be happy if I must be his wife.”_

Her fathers response had been a great disappointment to her. _“Your mother knows what she is doing, she’s made a good match for you. Lord Manderly is old but he will treat you kindly, you are young now, my dear, but when you are older you will be happy for this union. But if it truly bothers you, you should ask your mother about it.”_

She hadn’t. She knew her mother’s stubbornness, Alysanne had made her decision and that was final. Reasoning with her would be Viserra’s last resort, for the time however, she turned to another for help. 

Both Viserra’s parents had been at least half wrong when they tried to discover Viserra’s motives for wanting Baelon. There had been some truths in what they said, but not many. Mother thought it was for my own ambition and father thinks it’s for Baelon’s beauty. _Being a queen would be splendid, and Baelon is undeniably beautiful as all my family are_. But the true reason was nothing her parents would expect. _They think me shallow and vain, but only because they never cared to look any further._

The truth was that Viserra loved Baelon. Mayhaps not as strongly or in the same way Alyssa had, but it was love all the same and Viserra knew it was reciprocated. Viserra had nine older siblings, two of which had died long before her birth, but that still left her with seven older siblings, _and one younger_. That might seem the makings of every child’s dream, never a dull moment or second alone, but that wasn’t quite true. 

Aemon had always been too busy to spend much time with her, the same for Alyssa. Vaegon and Maegelle has both been away in Oldtown for most of her life, but by all accounts they were dull anyways. Daella had been frightened of everything that moved and Gael was still half a babe. Saera had been close to her own age, and in truth Viserra had enjoyed her company the most, she even looked up to her in some ways. But all that had ended when Saera found her new _friends_ , and eventually her sisters antics had lead her to disgrace. Viserra’s mother and father refused to speak of her now, but Viserra heard the servants talk, and from what she gathered her once favourite sister was now a whore somewhere in Lys. 

Baelon though… Baelon had always had time for her. He would play games with her when she was bored, he’d taught her how to shoot a bow and ride a horse, and promised one day to show her how to ride a dragon. As she’d grown older, Baelon had often found ways of distracting and removing any man that bothered her too much without drawing any attention to her discomfort. 

She wanted to marry Baelon because he was the only man who had ever truly shown her that he loved her, it did not even matter that it wasn’t in a romantic way. Viserra did not want some strange old man from a strange and far away place, she wanted Baelon. 

_But women rarely get what we want_. If she could not have what she wanted then so be it, but Theomore Manderly was still so so much less than what she _deserved_. It was the simple truth that Viserra was the most beautiful of all her siblings, _and the blood of the dragon regardless_. House Manderly was a great one, but also a banner to house Stark. Lord Theomore was a Lord, no more, not a Lord paramount and not a warden. _And he is old and fat_. All this in Viserra’s eyes made him unworthy of her, and by all the Gods she would not go along with this union without a fight. 

After pleading to her father failed, she turned to Baelon and tried a different tactic. On the night she finally decided to go ahead with her plan she found her courage deserted her. She lost count of how much she drank, all she knew is that it was more than she ever had and by the time she departed for Baelon’s chambers she could barely even stand. 

Somehow, she made her way to her brothers bedchamber without getting lost or being accosted by a guard or a parent. She couldn’t quite recall how she had slipped passed the guards, or how long precisely she’d been waiting, but by the time Baelon arrived her courage was beginning to leave her again and she had drained another cup just to regain some courage.

When her Brother finally returned, he took one look at Viserra lying naked on his bed and sighed. “What are you doing?” He asked, in a tone of utter disappointment. 

Suddenly her courage was gone, and all the wine made her feel was sad, so _so_ sad. “I can’t marry him!” She wailed as Baelon placed her gown before her on the bed and gestured for her to dress. “Please, _please_ don’t let them send me away! I can’t marry him I _can’t_!”

“It’s mother’s decision,” Baelon spoke softly. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“Yes there is!” Viserra was still sobbing, but she was mostly dressed again now, her hands were shaking too much for the more complicated fastenings, so she simply let her gown hang loose over her underclothes. “ _You_ could marry me! Then I could stay here! Please, _please_!”

Her sobbing was growing hysterical and she grabbed at Baelon’s arms frantically. _If he could just look at me! Every man who sees me desires me, if only he would look he would know I’m right and everything will be fine! If he just marries me!_

But Baelon would not look at her. He waited until she had quieted somewhat, then escorted her back to her own room, where she cried herself to sleep. 

She woke the next morn, and was sick almost immediately. Her head was pounding, she realised, and her vision still felt blurred and she was too dizzy to stand, so she simply went back to sleep. She had little and less to wake up for these days anyway. 

The next time she woke the autumn sun was high in the sky, and her mother was sitting beside her bed. “You’re awake,” she smiled sadly. “The maids told me you were ill. They we’re very distressed when they came to me.”

“You don’t seem overly concerned,” Viserra noted bitterly. 

“Baelon came to me too, you see,” _he didn’t even have the dignity to keep it secret,_ _he went and told mother_. “So I knew this state of yours would not last too long or leave you any the worse. You are feeling better now, yes?”

Viserra nodded reluctantly. Her mother stared at her for a few moments, and she saw… something… brewing in her mother’s blue green eyes. _Anger, and hurt. Most like, I dare say I have reopened a wound Saera left her with_. 

“Why?” Her mother asked finally, as the tears began to spill onto her cheeks. 

“Why?” Viserra felt blissfully numb. “Well I had hoped he would bed me, then he would have to wed me, and then I would not be able to wed Lord Manderly.”

Her mother’s mouth fell open at the girls honesty. The Queen was speechless for sometime, until finally she choked out, “have you no shame?”

“Oh I have plenty of shame,” Viserra agreed, mildly, “but not for this.”

“Why do you want to marry Baelon so much?” Her mother’s voice was straining. “Why can’t Lord Manderly be enough for you?”

“Enough?” She laughed. “How can you even ask that? Is it not obvious? The man’s had more wives than I have brothers, I have never once so much as laid eyes on him and he’s near four times my age!”

“He’s a good man, Viserra,” Alysanne insisted. “He will treat you kindly, more than kindly. In White Harbor you will have no rivals for his attention, you are young and beautiful and he will love you and dote upon you, I have no doubt of that.”

“I don’t care,” Viserra’s voice began to crack as she finally allowed herself to show her anger. “It’s not fair. Why can’t you let me chose my own husband?”

“You know people in our position are rarely allowed to marry for love or even chose for themselves, matches are often arranged between parents. And what you did last night has proven your judgement to be flawed.”

“Love?” Viserra laughed, slightly hysterically. “Forgive me mother, but you must hear the hypocrisy in that statement. Love? No, I never said I wished to marry for love, but you, what did you marry for if not love? And did Aemon not chose Jocelyn, did Baelon and Alyssa not chose each other because they loved each other? Did Vaegon not chose the citadel as Maegelle did the sept? Even Saera, you would have let her chose between her three, I know you would have. So do not speak to me as if you know my pain. Do not tell me this is the same dish you served my siblings, because it is not. This food is rotten!”

“Daella did not get to chose either,” the Queen said, with her jaw clenched. “And Daella was perfectly happy with her husband, a man not at all unlike Lord Manderly.”

“Yes, she did, and she was,” Viserra’s voice was dangerously low as she leaned towards Alysanne. “And remind me, mother, where is Daella now?” At that, Alysanne flinched, and the tears fell faster from her eyes. 

“Don-” her mother began to warn her, but Viserra paid her no mind. 

“Dead. Daella is dead, because of the marriage you arranged for her,” The Queen looked close to breaking point, but Viserra was far from being done. “And even if she wasn’t, even if she had been happy with what she was given, I am not her. Do you hear me mother? I am not her. I cannot be happy with what she was happy with. Lord Manderly may be a good man just as Lord Arryn was, but I will never know joy again if I am wed to him. I cannot be content in that life. So please, _please_ do not make me marry him.”

“What other choice do I have!” Alysanne thew up her hands. “It is already arranged, I cannot go back on my word now.”

“Offer him someone else,” the princess pleaded. “Offer him Gael for one of his sons when she comes of age.”

“No,” the queens voice was hard as stone. “The deal was made for your hand. And even if I did let you chose, who would you want? Baelon? I will not let that happen.” Viserra was silenced for a moment by that, so her mother went on. “After… after your sisters indiscretions, it is vital that you marry well and soon. Everyone in the Keep knows the company you keep, comely young knights and lordlings. Rumours will spread. And rumours lead to ruin. You can hardly blame me for my concern, can you? After the incident with Balerion?”

“It was only a joke,” Viserra huffed indignantly. “I wouldn’t truly have bedded any of them, I’m not a whore.”

“Those boys could have lost their heads, Viserra! The things you make those boys do, it’s cruel, you are manipulating them and their affections. Why you do it I will never understand.”

“Mayhaps I just like to see how much they are willing to do for me,” she sneered. “How far they are willing to go to earn my love.” The smirk on her face turned to a grimace as her mother gaped at her. “Mayhaps it is because I know they will love me no matter what, even if you do not.”

“What?”   
  
“If you loved me you wouldn’t make me do this.” She said it so softly, and so suddenly, that she half thought her mother had not heard. The princess hadn’t meant to say it, she thought it, every day she thought it, but saying it was entirely different she realised. 

“How can you say such a thing,” her mother’s face fell. “You are my daughter, you know I love you.”

“Do I?” Viserra began to sob. “You have a queer way of showing it then mother. Lord Manderly has three sons already, and they sons of their own. He doesn’t need a new wife, he doesn’t need me. But you will give him me all the same. And any children we have will inherit nothing. You are doing this to be rid of me, admit it, you want me gone from here and as far away from you as possible. Because you do not love me.”

“No,” her mother was crying too. “No, no my sweet girl, of course I love you.” Alysanne leaned over the bed and embraced her daughter, and she felt the princess was shaking with tears, and the Queen wept too. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I’m so sorry, I love you so much, I’m sorry.”

As they sat there, Viserra thought this must be the longest and most honest conversation she’d ever had with her mother. Having so many siblings meant her mother’s love and time was forever being shared between her children, most of whom had more need for it than Viserra. Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa would need her help with matters of state. Even when grown Daella was heavily dependent on her mother’s support and could barely function in her own. And Saera was perpetually greedy and demanded her mother’s attention at all times. Not to mention the two sons the queen had borne in the time between Viserra and Gael. Both Gaemon and Valerion has died before seeing their first name days, and Viserra was not so cold as to be blind to the way her mother grieved for them. 

But now, for this one moment at least, she had all of her mother’s attention only for her. And Viserra realised just how much she had needed it. 

“Please,” she said once the crying had abated. “Don’t make me marry him.”

“I’m sorry,” her mother voice was so soft it was hardly there at all, her blue eyes still shining with tears. “The deal has already been made, to back out would be an insult. I cannot.”

Viserra thought she could actually feel her heart breaking, as all the hope and love she’d just felt was forced out by her mother’s gut punching words. She felt tears in her eyes, and she was about to plead further, but she heard a voice inside her head. _You are a dragon_ , the voice said, _a dragon does not weep, nor does it beg._

She sat up straighter, and held her mother’s stare, her indigo eyes burning into the queens sea blue ones. “I promise you mother, I will not go through with this. I would rather die.”

“No,” her mother shook her head as she stood. “You are my daughter and I love you, but this is to be your fate. There is no changing it. We can delay for a while if you need some time, but you must learn to handle this with dignity.”

Viserra watched as her mother walked towards the door, then just before she departed the princess called out, “I will kill myself before I marry him, do you hear me? You say a good queen must know how to listen, well listen to me now. Whatever I must do I will do it. Be it jumping from my window or the railings of a ship. If I must slit my own wrist or hang myself with my bedclothes, I will do it. And when I do, _it shall be on your hands.”_


	2. Drunken Dalliance

The maid came to bring her food at the same time every day. Her parents had not gone so far as to lock her in her chambers, but they had made it clear she was not permitted to to go anywhere about the castle without a chaperone. So outside her door stood two guardsmen in black cloaks who would run and fetch her mother or the nearest Kingsguard to should she leave her chambers. 

_Two knocks_ , same as ever. Then entered the maid. She was around Viserra’s own age, and a similar size to the princess, if a bit flatter in some places. The girl wore a cowl over her head, for which Viserra was very grateful. Her gown was simple, pale blue and off white at the sleeves and neck, but it would all suffice for the princess’ plan. 

“Thank you,” she said as the girl placed her food upon her desk. “You must forgive me, you’ve been serving me for weeks now and I do not even know your name.”

“Daisy, if it please your grace,” the girl bobbed her head and looked at her feet slightly uncomfortably. “And there is naught too forgive princess. The fault was mine for not introducing myself.”

“Not at all,” Viserra stood from her chair and smiled sweetly. “Daisy is a beautiful name. Where are you from, may I ask?”

“Kings Landing,” Daisy’s eyes were still fixed on the floor. “It was my mother that found a place for me in your grace’s service, she worked in the kitchens.”

“That was kind of her,” the princess prided herself in knowing how best to win someone’s affections, and for this girl she judged kind words and a gentle hand would be best. “Does she work there still, I may know of her?”

“She’s dead, your grace.”

“I’m sorry,” Viserra reached a hand out to comfort the girl, for she truly was sorry, but Daisy flinched slightly at her touch. “Are you well? You needn’t be so afraid you know, we’re the only ones here and I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Yes, your grace,” the girl glanced up and smiled briefly. 

“Come, sit with me,” the princess took her hands and led her to the bed. “It’s been so long since I’ve had someone to talk to. You must tell me everything about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell, your grace,” viserra beckoned her to sit. “I’ve told you of my mother, I’m ‘shamed to say I’ve never know my father, but Ma always said he’d been a soldier.”

“Do you live here in the Keep?”

“Yes, I share a room with some of the other maids in the servants quarters.”

“Are they kind to you?” Viserra glanced at the window, the sky was blue black and darkening by the second, _it’s time_. “If they aren’t your friends you must tell me and I will find you somewhere better.”

“They are all very kind, your grace,” Daisy finally looked up. She was quite pretty, for a servant. She was pale but her cheeks and nose were spattered with freckles. Her eyes were the truly beautiful thing about her, bright emeralds that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Upon closer inspection of the girl, Viserra saw where her cowl did not quite cover all of her hair and a few red strands slipped out. “And they are all my friends.”

“I hope we can be friends,” the princess sang, so _so_ sweetly. She took the girls hands in her own. “Would you want that too?”

“Very much, your grace,” Daisy’s smile was wide and exposed her slightly bucked teeth. 

“Then you must call me Viserra, please,” Daisy nodded fervently. “Since we are friends now, Daisy, I can tell you that I am to leave Kings Landing very soon.”

“Why?”

“I am to be married,” she sighed dramatically. “The ship that will take me to White Harbor sails in three days time.”

“Forgive me, I don’t know where White Harbor is.”

“It’s in the North, sweet girl. It is the seat of house Manderly, and I am to wed Lord Theomore Manderly.”

“Theomore is a handsome name,” Daisy offered politely. 

“You are kind to say so, but I’m afraid the name does not reflect the man. He is nearing his sixtieth name day, and has grown grossly stout.” Daisy looked horrified, and tried to stammer out an answer but couldn’t. “I myself am only five and ten,” the princess continued. “How old are you?”

“Six and ten, at the last new year.”

“You know, I do think we are of a height,” Viserra stood and pulled the maid to her feet. “Yes we are, see?”

“I suppose so,” Daisy said sceptically. 

“I wonder,” Viserra began, “if you would be willing to help me with something.”

“What?”

“I’d quite like to see a few of my friends before I leave. I haven’t seen them in weeks. Just for this one night, I should like to see them, to say goodbye is all.”

“How could I help?”

“It’s very simple,” Viserra beamed. “All you need to do, is put on my clothes and stay here, while I wear your clothes and go say goodbye to my friends.”

“That- I’m not sure. Why not just go as you are?”

“Because if I do that I’ll have to take one of those men outside with me. And I’d rather have some time alone with my friends. You understand don’t you?”

“Yes, only-” Daisy hesitated. “I won’t get in trouble, will I?”

“Not at all. No one will even know I am gone and if they do I shall explain everything. You will be fine.”

Daisy still did not look entirely sure, but with the princess’ indigo eyes staring into her own, it did not take long for her to nod her consent. 

Before long Viserra was finishing her disguise by tucking the last few strands of hair into her cowl and smoothing put her skirts. The dress was a touch too tight around the chest, but aside from that it was fine. She gave Daisy free reign of anything she wished to wear, read, eat or do while she stayed in her room. 

“If anyone comes to the door,” Viserra told her once she was ready. “Say nothing, nothing at all. If they’re smart they’ll see that you’re ignoring them, if not they’ll assume you’re asleep. Either way they’ll leave you alone.”

“I understand.” Viserra kissed the girl on the cheek and embraced her. 

“I’ll be back soon,” reassured the princess. “Please, enjoy yourself while I’m gone.”

“And you princess,” Daisy smiled. “Be safe.”

Viserra returned the smile, then turned towards the door. _Keep your eyes down, don’t look at them_. She prayed they would not ask what had taken her so long, for it had been almost half an hour since Daisy had arrived with her food. To her relief, they barely even looked at her. 

She found the first two of her companions entirely by happenstance. Tommard Stokeworth and Ser Deryk Crakehall. One a newly made knight, the other the heir to Castle Stokeworth in the Crownlands. They did not recognise her as she walked towards them, Deryk gave her a curious glance but Tommard would not even acknowledge her presence. 

“My Lord, good Ser,” she began, and they turned to her with eyebrows raised. “Where might you be going on this fine eve.”

Crakehall laughed, “what business is that of yours, girl. I am an anointed knight, I do not need to explain my actions to serving wenches.”

Stokeworth chuckled too until he looked into Viserra’s eyes, then his own grew wide as diner plates. “Princess,” he breathed. “What- I- what are you wearing?”

“Well I’m glad at least one of you knows me,” she smirked, her joy then doubled as she saw the look of horror on Deryk’s face as he realised what he had said. “But then, the point of a disguise is to not be recognised, so I suppose I should be more pleased with Crakehall’s answer.”

“Your grace, where have you been?” Tommard breathed. “We heard your father had locked you up.”

“Not quite,” she sighed as she started to walk again, hearing them hurry to catch up to her only added to her enjoyment. “My dear parents are worried I may do something reckless before I am sent away to freeze and die at White Harbor, so I am allowed nowhere without a chaperone. Thankfully,” she gestured to her attire, “Daisy is unencumbered by such restrictions, and she was kind enough to help me with my little plan.”

“And what is your plan, your grace?” Deryk smirked. 

“One last night of laughter before I go freeze,” she smiled so sweetly the Maiden herself would weep for jealousy. 

They came to a stop in the gallery of the Throne room, it was empty at this time of night. “You two, go find Ser Addam, Darry and Osgrey. Meet me by the stables when you find them.”

Ser Rowan Darry and Ser Edwyn Osgrey we’re both Knights of some nobility. Osgrey’s father was a landed knight from somewhere in the Reach, and the boy was heir to his lands and castle. Darry was the third son of Lord Darnold Darry, so he was not like to ever inherit Castle Darry, but he was still of higher birth than Osgrey was. 

The third knight was Ser Addam of Bitterbridge. He was not of any high birth, but some hedge knight had taken him as a squire and he’d proven his skill and speed both on a horse and with a sword. His former master had knighted him on his fifteenth nameday and he’d been earning both gold and a reputation as a successful tourney knight ever since. It had been a tourney that had drawn him to Kingslanding less than a year ago, and Viserra knew he should have moved on to more promising lands by now, but he stayed anyway. 

While the princess had sent Crakehall and Stokeworth to round up the three young knights, she herself went to find the last of six companions she had deemed appropriate for this venture. Dareon Celtigar, heir to Claw Isle. Truth be told he was Viserra’s favourite, though that was mostly due to his Valyrian ancestry. Dareon also had a sister, Dael, who had been a friend and companion to Viserra until the girls were twelve, when Saera had accused her of stealing and she was sent back home. 

Dareon had some of the Valyrian look, but not as much as Targaryens or Velaryons did. His hair was more blonde than gold, and his eyes blue not purple. But he was still comely, far more so than the other five, and the only one that she truly considered her friend. 

Viserra found him where she knew she would, the library. He wasn’t especially bookish, but the princess knew he would come here every night to read while the castle was quiet. 

“What are you reading?” the princess snuck up behind him so he jumped near a foot off the ground when she spoke. His head whipped around as he slammed the book shut and looked ready to hit her with it as he stood from his seat and stared down at her. But when he saw her face his own soften. 

“Issy?” Viserra smiled at the name, none but he called her that. 

“Hello Arry,” Dareon scowled at his name, he though it sounded like a girls name and had asked her half a hundred times not to use it. She never listened. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too good.”

He glanced at the book in his hand, “Nothing so good that it could make me forsake your company.” Dareon held out an arm and she took it, nestling her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Should I ask why you’re dressed like that, or would I rather not know?”

“I needed some way to sneak past my guards,” Viserra grinned. “And speaking of clothes I hope yours are warm enough.”

“For what?”

“A midnight ride of course,” Dareon gave her a sceptical look. “I leave here in less than three days time, I want at least _a taste_ of life’s pleasures before mine comes to an end.”

“Will your mother truly not relent?” His sad eyes were fixed upon her, and for once Viserra felt the need to avert her own. It was a queer feeling, but she found she could not bear to see his sorrow. 

“Of course she won’t,” she felt a sinking feeling in her chest as the reality of her situation dawned on her. _I am going to marry him, it cannot be stopped._ “So I must needs make the best of my situation. Besides, I have seen so little of this city in my life, it would be wrong to leave without seeing all it had to offer.”

Dareon laughed. “Ah yes, Kingslanding, famous for its fleas and it’s whores. Is that what you mean to see tonight?”

“I would like nothing better.”

The other five were already saddling their horses by the time Viserra and Dareon arrived. The princess did not even have to speak, she simply cocked her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow and Darry and Stokeworth were already tripping over themselves to offer her their horses. Crakehall even went so far as to invite her to ride with him rather than on her own horse. But it was Ser Addam who won this time, presenting her with a freckled grey palfrey she had ridden before and was rather fond of. 

“I thank you, Ser,” Addam then knelt to give her a step up to reach the stirrups, and Osgrey offered a hand to steady her. Once she had mounted they all rushed to their own beasts and each trying mount it as smoothly as possible. Dareon was the last as he still had to saddle his horse. “Do keep up Arry,” she called over her shoulder as she set the palfrey off at a trot. 

Once they were beyond the sight of the keep she reached up and removed her cowl, shaking her head and sending her silvery curls cascading down her back. The seven companions halted by a water trough and everyone looked to Viserra for further instruction. 

“I wish to see the city,” she explained, “I have only ever seen the Keep and the Sept and the Dragonpit, and the few streets it takes to travel between them. Tonight I must rely upon the six of you to show me the more… interesting, places.”

They glanced at each other briefly, then it was Crakehall who spoke first, “there are many fine bakeries on the street of flour. I’m sure we could find one still open.”

“I’ve seen the street of flour,” Viserra dismissed, “and I have tasted food from every baker there already. Who has a better idea?”

“The street of steel is where many fine armourers forge armour for war and tourneys,” piped in Ser Edwyn Osgrey. “I could have them make something for you, a dagger, perhaps.”

“I already have a dagger,” she sighed. “And I’ve accompanied my brothers to the street of steel more times than I care to recall. Do none of you understand the meaning of the word interesting?”

“There are pot shops down in Flea Bottom,” offered Rowan Darry with a smug smile. “I’ll bet you’ve never been to one of those before, your grace.”

“No, I haven’t.” Viserra nodded her approval. “We shall go see one of those first.”

The Pot Shop was both the most horrifying and wonderful place she had ever seen. She did not believe them at first when Darry told her the Kingslanders ate the stew they had brewing in their dented iron pot that was so big Viserra could have used it as a bath tub. When offered a _bowl o’ brown_ , as they called it, the princess had to decline, for simply the smell of it was enough to make her gag. 

The people in the shop looked even less savoury than the food, and they smelt worse too. One large man she saw walked up to the man stirring the stew and gave him a sack of something she could not make out. The stirrer nodded and gave the man a copper for his troubles, then emptied the contents of the sack into the pot. Viserra could not help notice that the thing that came out of the sack looked suspiciously like an arm. That was when Stokeworth politely requested they move on. 

Dirty and smelly and terrifying though it was, the princess was loath to depart. She had never seen the city like that before, it fascinated her to see how fast people would eat the stew and how blind they seemed to be to it’s contents. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Edwyn explained, “and hunger makes a beggar of every man.”

It was Addam who chose their next destination too, claiming he was hungry and led the company to an establishment he knew of. Upon seeing the Inn, as Addam called it, Stokeworth faltered. 

“Ser, this is no place for a lady,” he protested. “Especially not _this_ Lady.”

“And why is that?” Viserra asked. 

“It- it is a whorehouse, Princess.” Stokeworth stammered. 

She considered that for a moment, then smirked, “excellent. I have never met a whore before.” _Well, none except Saera_. 

The brothel was a place even stranger to Viserra than the pot shop had been. Her septa had explained to her what happened during bedding, and she remembered how Alyssa used to make ribald jokes about it on occasion that would make her friends blush and giggle. But what she saw around her now was entirely different. 

Most of the women would take their customers upstairs to private rooms, others would perch themselves on the mans lap as he ate and drank and laughed with his friends. None of the women were especially beautiful, but Viserra could not deny they had a certain _allure_ that few could be immune to. 

“The street of silk is where the more expensive girls are,” Ser Addam confided, whispering in the princess’ ear as they sat down and called for drinks. “They’re prettier and better trained, to be sure, but those places lack the atmosphere somewhere like this has.”

A dark haired woman dressed in a blue silk gown leaned forwards across the table to pass a tankard of ale to Crakehall, and in doing so showed him her cleavage. As she walked away she turned her head and winked at him over her shoulder. _Half the ladies I know are too frightened to even talk to man, let alone wink at them. She may not be the most beautiful woman, but she’s as brave as any knight._

Other girls came with ale and wine for the other six youths, each more forward than the last in their attempts. _They see six green boys, each of noble birth with plenty of coin to use on them_. One woman in particular caught her eye, a dark skinned woman with tightly curled hair and onyx eyes. She wore a white gown that left her shoulders and chest bare. Viserra’s gaze must have been noticed for moments later the whore was seated beside her, playing with her hair and smiling a coy smile. 

“It’s not often we see women here,” she said, her accent was think and foreign, but Viserra recognised it immediately. “And never one as beautiful as you.”

She took the compliment with a smile, “you are from the Summer Isles, yes?”

“That is right, I was born on Omboru.”

“What is your name?” 

“Narha,” Viserra judged the girl was of an age with her, mayhaps a year older. “What is your name?”

 _Viserra_ , she almost said, but thought better of it. “Issy,” she told Narha instead. Dareon was sat opposite watching the two girls, the princess gave the lordling a smug smile. 

Viserra found Narha’s company to be far more enjoyable than that of any of her male companions. They spent what felt like hours talking as the princess asked her question after question about her home and what had brought her to Westeros. 

Their time together ended when the Summer Islander was called away to someone with greater prospects. The princess gave her a gold dragon for the ale and conversation, and in return Narha cupped Viserra’s face and kissed her. It was a chaste thing compared to the kisses Narha gave other people, she was sure. But to Viserra it was as sweet as any, _whatever Manderly gets from me, he won’t be the first to touch my lips. He may have my hand but he will never have that_. It was a small defiance, but it warmed her all the same. 

She glanced at her companions and saw that Osgrey and Crakehall had both disappeared, and Stokeworth had his head slumped on the table. Dareon and Ser Addam were playing a drinking game and by the look of it both were almost as drunk as poor Tommard. 

Now that Narha had left, Darry challenged her to the same game the other two were playing. It was less of a game in truth and more of a race, and Darry was far better at it than she was, but he would let her win all the same. In what seemed like no time at all the princess was well in her cups, laughing hysterically at everything her three companions told her, and she somehow had ended up seated on Celtigars knee, much to the annoyance of the other two. 

“A toast!” Darry roared, too drunk to care who heard. “To our sweet princess!”

“Viserra!” He and Ser Addam yelled and smashed their cups together. It was a good thing the room was full and loud that night, and no one else seemed all that interested in what they said. 

“To you Issy,” Dareon said, much quieter than the other two so only she could hear. She was sure it was meant to be sweet, but it only served to make her laugh and in doing so choke slightly on her drink. “Careful now, you don’t want to be choking to death mere days before you meet your husband.”

The laughter died in Viserra’s throat. She coughed a little to clear the ale from her airways, then turned to give the boy a hard stare, which was hard when he looked so blurred. “Why must you ruin our fun with mention of _him_?”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he brushed her hair out of the way so he could whisper his next words into her ear. “Lord Manderly is old and fat, and Winter is Coming. Old fat men die all the time, of disease or simply age. The mans seen almost sixty name days. It would not be strange if he were to die, so I personally doubt you’ll have to suffer him for long.”

“No,” she pondered it for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”

“And when he does pass,” Dareon continued, his breath tickling her ear, “you would have to come back here, back home, wouldn’t you?”

“Most like.”

“Then I shall be here waiting for you,” Viserra could not help but smile at that.

“ _You_ will be waiting for me?” She laughed. “What of our good friends here, will they not be waiting also?”

”I don’t care about them,” Viserra turned to face him, _he’s drunk, that’s the only reason he says this._ But the lordling held her gaze, “I only care about you. The others, they’ll leave here and return to their homes or their hedges the second your ship sails. But not me. If there is even the slightest chance that you will return then I shall wait for you.”

“And if Lord Theomore should surpass your expectations and live to see another thirty namedays?”

”Then you shall find a very old man waiting here when you return, but I think I am right about this, and I shan’t have long to wait,” _he is beautiful,_ Viserra realised then. “And if it’s not too bold of me to say, I met Lord manderly once, someone as stunning as you would be wasted on him.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I would be.”

“Your grace,” Darry stood from his seat, swaying slightly, “I do believe this is the hour of the Wolf, when the night is at its darkest. And the darkest hour always comes before the dawn. We should return to the Keep now, lest anyone see us return.”

“Very well,” she glanced at Stokeworth, still sprawled insensible across the table. “What about him, and Osgrey and Crakehall.”

“We must leave them here, I fear,” Ser Addam replied, putting a hand on Darry’s shoulder to steady himself. “They’ll find their own ways back in due time.”

Viserra found herself even less sure on her feet than Ser Addam was, and Dareon was all but carrying her to her palfrey. “Are you sure you want to ride back to the castle?” He asked her. “It may be safer if you shared with one of us.”

“I am fine,” she lied as she stepped on Darry’s hand to reach her stirrups. “I’ve been riding since before I could walk. I’m better on a horse drunken than any of you are sober.”

“Is that so?” Ser Addam smirked. “Would you care to put that to the test?”

“What do you suggest?”

“A race, of course.” The knight laughed. “First one to reach Aegon’s high hill wins!”

“Alright,” she laughed, confident in her victory as she turned to the other two horses. “And you, my lords, will you race with us?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Princess,” Darry said, almost falling from his horse in the process. 

Dareon looked more skeptical, “it’s very dark, and Darry can barely keep his mount while stationary let along cantering through the streets.”

“Come on Celtigar,” Darry laughed, “we’ll be fine!”

”You’re more than welcome not to join if you’re scared,” Viserra teased.

”Scared of what?” Dareon asked, brows furrowed. Viserra could see he wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but she thought it a brilliant one.

”Losing.”  
  
She gave her friends no warning, only set her palfrey of at a gallop left them all to catch up to her. It took her a several minutes to realise she did not know which way the Red Keep was, or even where she was, but when she looked up she saw it looming over her. She was only slightly off course and turned down an alley to her left so it would be directly ahead of her. 

Her companions soon caught up and she heard the beating of hooves on the cobbles behind her. She laughed with joy and exhilaration as people fled from her path and carts and stalls were overturned by them. The foot of Aegon’s hill was only a few yards ahead _I’ve won_! She thought, but as she spurred her mount into a final finishing sprint another horse appeared from an unseen street on her right. 

The two horses crashed together mere feet from the finish line. Viserra heard her palfrey scream in agony and the sound of bones cracking. The animals knees buckled and she felt it stumble beneath her, she tried to throw herself out of the saddle, but one foot was caught in the stirrup. Her horse collapsed onto its side and for a split second the most agonising pain Viserra had ever felt bolted through her leg, but she did not even have time to scream before her head hit the floor and her world turned black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viserra’s companions are never named in canon, they’re just mentioned as two minor lordlings and four young knights, so I took some creative license there.   
> Narha is the name of one of Bellegere Otherys and Aegon IV’s children, I’m not sure if it’s a male or female name but it sounds like a girls name so I used it.


	3. Downfall

She woke to the sound of angry voices and someone crying. When she tried to open her eyes she found her lids were made of lead, and when she tried to speak her might as well have been wired shut. The sounds of the voices became clearer, _father, that’s fathers voice._ He was saying something about guards, something about a maid, they would all be arrested. Viserra tried one final time to open her eyes. They fluttered open, and she saw her mother’s tear streaked face above her, but then the effort was too much and she dissolved back into sleep.

This sleep was more fitful than the last had been, as she was plagued by nightmares. A fat merman was trying to drag her off her rock and into the ocean. _“Come dance with me!” He called, smiling through his yellow pointed teeth. “Come dance with me, come dine with me come kiss me!”_

_“No!”_ She screamed back. _“I can’t breath down there! I’ll drown, I’ll die!”_

The merman did not seem to hear her, or maybe he did and simply didn’t care, _“It is beautiful beneath the sea, come see! Come see!”_

_“No!”_ But the rock she clung to seemed to be sinking, and a hoard of red crabs now scurried up out of the sea and began to pinch her, forcing her to let go. As she hit the water the sea flooded into her mouth, but it wasn’t salty, it was sweet and thick.

She woke the second time to find the queen sitting beside her with a jar of honey. “Mother,” she croaked, her voice so low and horse she was sure her mother wouldn’t hear, but she had.

“Viserra,” she set down the jar and grasped her daughters hand. “Can you hear me?”

She tried to speak again but could manage no more than a grunt, followed by a fit of coughing as her mother called for the maester. Her mother reached for a glass of water, but Viserra lost consciousness again before she could drink it.

The next time she woke her mother was gone, and she was entirely alone. Any attempt to sit up would be folly, she knew, her limbs were still aching and too heavy to move. But her eyes were easier to move, though if she looked up too far she found her head would ache. The shutters and drapes were closed, so her room was dark, but she could still see well enough. Nothing had changed. Nothing had moved, the only difference was a chair pulled to the edge of her bed and some half finished weaving on her night stand.

She was thirsty. “Mother,” her voice was louder than last time. “Mother,” she called again, and when there was no response she tried again. “Mother! Father!” When still no one came, she called instead for water, so anyone who might be listening would know her request.

It was neither her mother nor her father who entered the room first, but instead Ser Ryam Redwyn of the Kingsguard. “We’ve sent for your mother, princess,” she told her, “she’ll be here soon.”

“Water,” Viserra coughed, “water.”

She saw him grab a passing servant and tell them something, _to get me a drink I hope._ She shut her eyes for a second as the effort of talking overwhelmed her. When she opened them again her mother beside her, and more importantly she realised there was a plate of food on her night stand. Viserra has not realised how hungry she was until that moment, and the thought of eating gave her the strength to push herself up so she could sit.

As Viserra chewed her bread she realised how stiff her jaw had become, and her throat was dry when she swallowed. Her arms were heavy too, so the process of lifting food to her mouth, biting, chewing and swallowing, seemed to take forever. And for the whole time the princess ate, the queen watched her in silence.

When she had eaten her fill Viserra turned to look her mother in the eye. Alysanne opened her mouth to speak but her daughter stopped her. “No need mother, I already know what you’re going to say. It was a foolish, selfish and reckless thing, and has proved me to be selfish, arrogant girl you have always known me to be. I have shamed you and father both, and also to the great and noble houses of Targaryen and Manderly. Lord Theomore deserves far better than an insolent arrogant child such as myself, and my royal father is _so_ appalled by my actions that he can no longer stand the sight of me. So I had best start packing my things for I shall soon be on my way to join my whore of a sister in the free city of Lys. Am I correct?”

Alysanne stared at her incredulously. “Oh my sweet girl, you have never been more wrong,” the Queen threw her arms around her daughter, and held her so tight Viserra could scarcely breath. But she found herself returning the embrace. “There were times I feared you would never wake, and I truly do not know what I would have done if that had been the case. Already I am haunted by your sisters’ shades, if you had joined them I fear it would not have been long before I lost strength and followed you.”

“You-” Viserra was hesitant. “You aren’t angry with me?”

“Of course I’m angry with you!” The princess winced at the tone. “It was a stupid thing to do! You could have died. I’m angry that you seem not to care at all for the trouble you caused or the fact that you used a dozen people to aid you in your plans without a care for what might happen to them. When the guards found that poor maid sleeping in your bed they dragged her half naked across the castle to explain what had happened to your father and myself.”

“I did not intent for anyone to find her,” Viserra offered meekly. “I would have been back to return her clothes and send her on her way if- if not for…” her memory deserted her. “What _did_ happen, where are the boys?”

“Crakehall, Stokeworth and Osgrey were all insensible when we found them, and they remembered little and less of the night before when they woke. The hedge knight, Bitterbridge, he filled in the details for them, and now not one of them has any recollection of your involvement. They shall keep quiet as they wish to bring no shame upon their own houses.” Her mother was avoiding the more important question. “Darry was in a rather foul state himself, but the ride to the castle saw him recovered enough to recount the tale to your father and I.”

“Mother,” Viserra said, more insistently this time. “ _What happened?_ I- I can remember making to return to the Keep, we were going to race but I can’t remember what happened after.”

“You raced,” her mother’s eyes would not meet her own. “At the foot of Aegon’s High Hill your horse crashed into Dareon Celtigar’s. Your horse fell on you an-” she took a shaky breath, “it crushed your leg.”

Viserra was numb. “My leg?” She asked blankly. “I can feel any pain though. If it was broken, I would feel it.”

Her mother pulled back her sheets. Her right leg was there, skinny and pale sticking out from the end of her night dress, but the left was gone. She pulled up the hem of her dress, and just above where her knee should have been there was a stump wrapped in white linen. “Oh,” she could think of nothing else to say, until another thought struck her. “You said my horse crashed with Dareon’s, what became of him?” Men needed their legs more than women did, it seemed to Viserra. _If he has lost his, how will he ride or fight in battle?_

“He was thrown from his saddle,” her mother’s eyes met hers, viserra saw there were tears in those sea green pools. “His neck was broken.” _The dragon does not weep,_ but when Viserra heard that, she could not stop the tears from rolling silently down her cheeks. Her mother wrapped her arms around her again. “The maester says it happened fast, he would have felt nothing. I hope that its some consolation to know he died painlessly.”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered, “he said we should not race, that someone would fall off.” _Dwell on your guilt later,_ she told herself, _you have more questions to ask now._ “You said Darry and Bitterbridge are both well?”

“Well would be a generous term for it. Darry was sent home to the Riverlands as soon as he recovered from the shock. The other three, Crakehall and the like, they will be returned to their own Keeps in due time, not all at once, that would beg too many questions. Bitterbridge on the other hand…” her mother eyes were hard now. “Your other companions were protected by their high birth but the hedge knight had no such shield. After he helped re-write the story for inebriates, we questioned both him and Darry again, that was when we learned it had been Ser Addam’s idea to go to that… establishment. You can imagine your fathers wrath.”

“Did father kill him?” She asked more out of curiosity than concern, her mother seemed to notice.

“No. That would raise too many questions. He’s in the black cells at present, deciding his own fate. The King has given him a choice; take the black, or be stripped of his spurs and gelded. He’s lost his tongue already, for suggesting you and your friends frequent such a disreputable place, now it’s only a question of what else he’d like to loose.”

“You took his tongue?”

“Not with mine own hands, but I did play a part in suggesting it. Jaehaerys needed someone to blame, I think he would have blamed you, but you were knocking on the Strangers door and he could not bring himself to let his last memories of you be hateful ones. Bitterbridge was the obvious option, he was in no ways innocent, and it is easier for your father to think that the hedge knight somehow corrupted you that this was his plan and not yours.”

“Don’t you believe that too?” Viserra did not begrudge her mother’s scheme, it was rather clever in truth. Bitterbridge could neither read nor write so removing his tongue left him unable to tell anyone the truth. “About my being corrupted and how I only followed Bitterbridge because he had seduced me in some way?” She felt a sudden itch in her foot and moved to scratch it, only when she looked down she remembered she had not foot anymore.

“No,” her mother laughed, though there was little joy in it. “I know you too well, Viserra. Bitterbridge was comely enough, but of the lowest birth and little renown as a knight. You enjoyed his adoration of you, I’m sure, but it was not a feeling you would ever reciprocate.”

Viserra shrugged, her mother _was_ right, this one time at least. “I wander how Lord Theomore feels about the prospect of a crippled wife. I suppose it matters less for a woman. I shall require crutches or a litter to bear me places, but I don’t think it will effect my ability to lie on my back or conceive a child.”

“Your wedding to Lord Manderly has been delayed indefinitely.”

_Now that is a nice surprise_. “Oh,” she tried to hide her smile, “why?”

“Because of your sisters,” her mother whispered. “I see them almost every night, clad in their bloody gowns. Both dead from complications in the birthing bed. I have borne thirteen children, I may not be as young as I was once, but I still have strength to walk and ride and live. Alyssa died after her third babe, she who was always stronger than I was both physically and mentally. And poor Daella, I should have known, she was always delicate. Childbirth is a bloody business and it’s a wander Daella even managed it at all. Could I truly send you to live an unhappy life with a man you did not know, only to bear for him babes that could kill you to come into this world?”

“So I don’t have to go?” Viserra asked with rising hope.

“The betrothal isn’t broken, only postponed,” Her mother admitted ruefully. “But Grand Maester Elysar has told me your recovery shall be a long one, and we shan’t make any arrangements for you to travel to White Harbor until you are well again.” Viserra sighed but her mother wasn’t finished yet. “That being said, you can’t remain in Kingslanding either, not at present. The city is too big and too busy. We’re sending you to Dragonstone so you might rest and heal in peace.”

Dragonstone was an westernmost Valyrian outpost, and the seat of house Targaryen before the Red Keep had been built. It was still held by their family but Viserra and all her siblings had always lived in Kingslanding as children, and many had stayed there even as men and women grown. _Dragonstone isn’t so bad,_ Viserra decided, _and it may do some good to be out of this stinking city for a while._

“Will you come too,” she asked her mother. “Or will I be there alone?”

“I would come, truly I wish I could. But I am the Queen, I am needed here. You shan’t be alone though, we’ll send for some other young Ladies to come and attend you if you wish. And I’ve written to the sept in Oldtown, your sister Maegelle will be there to keep you company and watch over you.”

“Is that allowed?” Viserra had never met her elder sister, but her mother had oft travelled to Oldtown to visit her. “Does she not have duties as a Septa?”

“Many Septa’s are sent to school young noble ladies,” her mother reminded her. “You are old enough not to need one, I’ll grant, but when the Queen makes a request the faith are always kind enough to oblige. So _officially_ , Maegelle be there as your teacher and attendant, but I trust you will treat her as your sister and friend in time.”

“Which other Ladies would you suggest as suitable companions.”

“That is your choice. If you have any suggestions you may tell me them later, I’m afraid now I must go fetch the maester. He told me he wished to speak with you when you woke, but I asked for some time alone with you first.”

Maester Elysar brought another man with him when he entered, one who’s face Viserra did not know. The maester asked how she felt, did her leg give her pain, could she eat? How was her head, how much did she remember, could she count backwards from ten? After a while all the questions sounded the same and they were all tedious.

Eventually the maester seemed to finish his investigation, and he called the other man closer. “This is Patrek, your grace,” he explained. “The finest carpenter in Kingslanding for work such as this.”

“Work such as what?”

“Making you a knew leg,” the maester gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid it won’t quite be the same as a leg made of flesh and bone, the knee will not bend and it will take some time to grow accustomed to, but it shall save you having to hop from place to place.”

Viserra nodded her understanding. Patrek spent almost as long measuring her legs as Elysar had done asking her questioned. He wrapped a knitted string around her thigh and knee and calf, then down the length of her leg and along her feet.

“What will is be made from?” She asked as he measured.

“That is for your grace to decide,” Patrek replied. “Most choose wood, others ivory. Both are good choices, but ivory is rare at present, and wood can be prone to splinter,” he hesitated for a moment. “I’ve heard others say dragon bone works well. It is strong but also light and somewhat flexible, that’s what makes it so good for bows. It would make as fine a prosthetic as ivory or wood would. Only it’s much rarer than both.”

“I’m aware,”Viserra thought on it for a moment, _I am blood of the dragon, it would almost be poetic to have my new leg be dragon bone._ “My family brought five dragons to this country when we left Valyria. Of those only Balerion remains, and Quicksilver and Meraxes were both slain in the after the conquest.” Meraxes remains, along with those of her rider, Viserra’s great grandmother Rhaenys, had never been returned to her family. But Quicksilver, who had been her uncle Aegon and grandfather Aenys dragon, and the four Valyrian dragons’ bones must have been in her family’s possession. “Maester, tell my father what Patrek has said. I’m sure he won’t mind parting with some of his collection.”

Once Patrek had finished his measurements both he and the maester took their leave, and Viserra was left alone with her thoughts. _It’s only a leg,_ she told herself, _you could have lost a lot more._ If fate had not been so kind it might have been me with a broken neck and Dareon without a leg _. But was this a kindness? Truly?_ She did not know. To her, yes, this was better. She had been all but released from wedding Lord Manderly, she would have far more freedom on Dragonstone, and one day she might even chose a husband of her own, one she truly enjoyed. _But Dareon is dead…_

One of the very few people Viserra might have considered a friend, and he was dead on account of her. _If our roles had been reversed, he would have been left a cripple, stripped of any chance of knighthood or glory in battle. It is kinder that he should have been spared that._ She tried to convince herself of that as she stared down at the stump of her leg. The scar was twisted and ugly, and when she put a hand to her face to wipe away the tears she felt something rough above her eye. As she had not yet seen her reflection, it had not even occurred to her that her face would have suffered some injury also.

She used the plate as a looking glass, the smooth silver distorting her features somewhat, but the cut was clearly seen. It stretched from her hairline down across her eyebrow and ending upon her cheekbone, red and jagged and angry. Now she saw it she realised her face had been aching ever since she’d woken. _It’s only on one side,_ she felt the tears begin to well in her eyes again, _it’s not so bad, at least you still have both your eyes, and most of your eyebrows._ That thought only made it worse, and she began to sob.

It was not long after that she made the mistake of trying to stand. She needed to piss and refused to soil herself now she was awake; doing so in her sleep, which she was sure she must have, was bad enough but at least then she could claim to have had no control, which was true. If she were to wet herself now the fault would be entirely hers and she would not suffer that embarrassment.

The bedpan was right beside her nightstand her, all she would need to do would be stand on one leg and squat, it couldn’t be that hard, could it? She found out very soon, that it could indeed be incredibly hard.

Pulling herself to the end of her bed went smoothly enough, but when she first stood a wave of dizziness forced her to sit back down. When she tried again she found standing on one leg was very different when you only had one leg. Her balance was all wrong and she was still weak from her sleep, and she dare not try hopping to the pan so she resorted to going on her hands and knee and crawling to the damned thing.

Squatting, also, was entirely out of the question, as it would require placing weight upon her stump. When she tried it the first time the pain was blinding and she feared she would faint. In the end she had to balance on one leg and hold her weight on her arms. All in all it was an undignified experience and she was infinitely glad no one had been there to bear witness.

The climb back into her bed was even harder than escaping it had been. When she finally laid back down, she was so exhausted that she fell into sleep instantly, and this time dreamed a far more pleasant dream; a dream of dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any grammar errors, I didn’t check this one because I was in w bit of a rush.   
> This is obviously where the canon divergence is as rather than Viserra being thrown into a wall and breaking her neck she gets her leg crushed, which is what happened to the boy she collided with in canon.  
> Next chapter will be on Dragonstone and there’ll be more female characters including Maegelle.


	4. Disinterest

Dragonstone was not at all what she expected. The island was wet and grey, but the castle huge and beautiful, if slightly sinister. It’s black walls and towers were topped by fearsome gargoyles and the castle itself seemed to take the shape of a dragon. Viserra thought it far grander than the Red Keep, for there was surely no other castle like it in all of Westeros.

The castle staff and small folk, she soon learned, did not love the castle half as much as Viserra did. They found it overly imposing and still somewhat foreign, and their moods were not improved by the weather. It had been raining ever since they had arrived, and before that even. It was a good thing for Viserra that it had been though.

The official story of her fall and Dareon’s death was a hawking accident that happened the day after the true incident had taken place. The queen had gone to great lengths to make this tale a believable one. The day the accident was alleged to have happened, she went to the stables and asked for three horses to be saddled and made ready for riding. Then she and two others, Rowan Darry and the maid Daisy, mounted their horses and rode out from the Keep with Ser Ryam Redwyn escorting them. This would have been a queer sight indeed, but it had been raining, so all three wore the hoods of their cloaks to cover their faces, which meant none of the stable hands knew any different when the Queen informed them that her two young companions were the Princess Viserra Targaryen and Dareon Celtigar. Ser Ryam was a Kingsguard and trusted with the truth.

Later that day, the Queen rose back to the keep with two covered litters, one allegedly containing Viserra, and the other one Dareon. And so it was that the castle and the city all believed that the princess’ mount had lost its footing and fallen upon her, and that the young lordlings own horse had been spooked by the sound and threw him off, to his death.

No one but Viserra herself, her parent, Darry, Daisy, Bitterbridge, Ser Ryam and a couple of Goldcloaks know the truth, and so it would remain. The two goldcloaks had both been pain a handsome sum to never speak of what they had seen, Bitterbridge had no tongue and was currently on route to the Wall. Darry was too ashamed to speak of the events ever again and had been well informed as what would happen if he ever did, Daisy was told the same, and then she had been sent to Dragonstone with Viserra to keep her away from any who might doubt the story told and seek to question her.

Not even Maegelle knew the truth, and she had been ever so sympathetic when she first met Viserra. “Dear sister,” the septa said as she embraced the sibling she had not seen since she was a babe. “I hope your journey was quiet, these seas are often the worst hit by the autumn storms.”

“The seas were gentle, thank the god,” Viserra decided a bit of piety wouldn’t when she spoke with septa Maegelle. “Though I’m afraid the swaying of ships has never agreed with me. And walking as a cripple is hard enough without the ground moving beneath you.”

“Mother told me of your accident,” Maegelle held out an arm for Viserra to lean on, “I would have had a litter brought down to carry you, but I’m afraid the leading up to the Castle make it nigh on impossible to carry one.”

“I understand,” viserra nodded, “I’m sure I shall manage well enough with your arm and my crutch.”

Her new leg was harder to walk on than she had expected. Dragon bone may be flexible enough for a good bow, but it could not bend the way a knee could. And truth be told it did not look like a proper leg, it had no foot only a thin stump. But at least there were no splinters as there would have been from a wooden one, and it did give her _something_ to walk on and save her having to be carried everywhere.

The step leading to Dragonstone Castle seemed to stretch for miles, and by the time they reached the top Viserra resigned to never leave the Castle so she would not have to face those wretched stairs again. Upon seeing the inside of the castle, she decided she would never _need_ to leave it. It was far more beautiful than the Red Keep, the walls in the entrance hall were covered in grand paintings and tapestried, and upon the floor was a patterned Myrish rug that seemed to stretch the entire length of the room. 

I’m the sudden heat of the castle, Viserra found herself tired and had to put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Are you alright?” Maegelle asked, concerned.

“Fine, thank you,” Viserra smiled, “but the journey and the climb up those thrice damned stairs have worn me out I fear. I should like to get some rest before dinner.”

“Of course,” the Septa called for the servants to carry Viserra’s belongings, and one to help her to her chambers. “We’ve given you apartments on this floor for now so you won’t have too many stairs to climb. But when you’ve recovered some more you can move to ones of your choosing if that is what you wish.”

Once all her belonging had been brought in, and Viserra herself had hobbled her way though the castle leaning heavily on her new attendant, she sent everyone else away. The chambers she had been given were pleasant enough. The room was at the easternmost edge of the castle, and she had a clear view of the Narrow sea from the window in her bedchamber. When she looked down she saw that there was a sheer drop down from the sea should she ever fall from the ledge, as the castle here was built upon a side of the mountain so steep it was almost vertical. _I shall have to remember to keep this shut._

She only meant to rest her eyes for a while, but sleep overtook her the moment her head touched the pillow.

Hours later she woke as the golden light of sunrise spilled through her window. She had fallen asleep fully dressed, and her hair was an unbrushed mess, so she called for someone to help her prepare for the day ahead. When the maid arrived Viserra’s stomach did a flip at the sight of her.

“Your grace,” Daisy said, icily. And in answer to Viserra’s puzzled look she explained further, “your mother told me I am to serve as your handmaiden whilst you are here.”

“I see,” the princess looked upon the maids face and saw the skin around her eye was yellow and somewhat puffy, the ghost of a bruise. “Who gave you that?”

Daisy lowered her head. “Your grace’s guards,” she gave the princess a cautious look, then raised her head and stared straight into the other girls eyes. “When they found me in your chambers they thought I was stealing. One of them wanted to break my hand as a punishment, but the other said it was for your father to decide. But when I tried to explain what happened they told said they did not care, and then they punched my stomach for speaking out of term, and my face too though I’m still not sure what their reason was for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Viserra muttered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did.”

“But it did happen that way, your grace. Please excuse me, I have work to do.”

When she left, Viserra found herself feeling strangely guilty. _She suffered no lasting damage,_ she told herself, _and now she has been raised to mine own handmaiden, that is a privilege for one of her birth._ To the princess’ annoyance, the guilt she felt would not abate, and she did not know how to make the feeling go away.

Her mood worsened later as there was another knock on her door, and the Septa walked in. “Have you not eaten yet?” She asked as she eyed the plate Daisy had brought in, its contents were untouched.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You will be later,” Maegelle muttered slightly as someone carried the food away. “I’ll help you dress, the other ladies are here, you need to go meet them.”

Viserra’s mother had _“strongly advised”_ her on her choice of companions. The first one the queen suggested was Amanda Arryn, as Daella had been fond of her. The next was her niece, Princess Rhaenys, as she was her kin. The last had been Viserra’s idea, Dael Celtigar, as they had been close before. Her mother agreed, thinking it might help soothe Lord Celtigar after his sons death.

The Celtigar girl was of an age with her, where Amanda was closer to Daella’s age and Rhaenys not yet thirteen. Viserra has never met Amanda, and spent little and less time with her niece, but Dael she had known well and had always liked. But if Viserra thought that would make Dael her favourite, she was wrong.

Dael was just as kind and witty as she always had been. But Viserra found every time she looked upon the girls face she was reminded of Dareon, and then she would only feel more guilty. _It wasn’t my fault!_ She screamed inside her head, _I never saw his horse, he crashed into me!_

“Please know,” Dael said as they sat down for supper on that first day, “I don’t blame you at all. Neither does my father. We know it was an accident, so please don’t think I am resentful of that, because I’m not, and I’m ever so grateful that you asked me to be here.”

“Thank you,” Viserra forced a smile. Dael was forgiving her, complimenting her even, but the kindness tasted foul. _She doesn’t know the truth, she’s forgiving me for something that isn’t true._ “I missed your company,” she said quickly to stop herself from truly speaking her mind. “I always knew Saera was lying.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the other girl beamed at her. “I’ve missed you too, and truly, I never stole a thing.”

“I know.”

The other two girls proved equally surprising. In Amanda’s case, that wasn’t much of an achievement, as Viserra’s expectations for her had been low. That the Arryn girl was as good a lady as any was nothing unexpected, but her lack of interest in Viserra baffled the princess. It was clear from the first moment they met that Amanda preferred Maegelle’s company. Viserra could not make any sense if it to start with, Maegelle was nice enough but she was hardly interesting company for a lady. Soon though, she began to realise why the two girls were so fond of each other. _They both remind each other of Daella,_ she realised, _Amanda sees only a sweet, young, Targaryen princess that she can look up to. Maegelle sees the adoring younger sister that she lost._ Viserra knee she couldn’t not be either of those things for Maegelle or Amanda, so she made no attempt to try.

However, the most surprising companion by far was Rhaenys. The girl was barely thirteen, but she was far wittier than the other two, and cleverer than most people thought. Mostly she would me quiet and polite and courteous, listening intently to Dael as she spoke of the boy she hoped to marry, engaging Maegelle in long conversations about the Gods. She would even recommend books for Amanda and read them with her on occasion.

For their first few weeks on Dragonstone, that was the only side of Rhaenys that Viserra ever saw, until she happened to mention Daisy’s dislike of her, and how uncomfortable her mornings had become now her maid refused to engage in any conversation with her.

“Why does she dislike you?” Rhaenys asked.

“I- I involved her in something that did not end well,” Viserra told her, “for anyone.”

“Does this have anything to do with your leg?” Rhaenys asked in a hushed voice.

Viserra’s head whipped around. “I lost my leg in-”

“- a hawking accident,” Rhaenys interrupted her. “Yes, I know, we all know. But it does seem rather strange to me that you would go hawking with the Queen and Dareon Celtigar less than two days before you were due to leave for White Harbor.”

“How is that strange?” Viserra retorted, trying not to become agitated. “Mother often took me and Saera hawking when we were younger, and Daella and Maegelle and Alyssa too. I wanted to do it one more time before I left.”

“That I understand. My mother used to take me hawking too, your mother even joined us once. The bit I don’t understand is why Dareon was there.”

“Dareon was my friend.”

“Alright,” the princess shrugged. “I think you must have done _something_ though. Whether it has to do with your leg or not I don’t know, but it wasn’t anything good.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion then?”

“Father didn’t want me to come here,” Rhaenys looked almost shy now. “He all but refused to let me anywhere near you. He said he thought you’d be a bad influence on me.”

Viserra laughed, but her nieces words stung her. “If Aemon refused, how is it you’re here then.”

“Uncle Baelon persuaded him. He said that _I_ might have a _good_ influence on _you,_ instead of the other way around.”

“Well I’m glad to hear my brother have such faith in me,” she laughed again, _they used to love Saera,_ she thought, _they fought her antics funny. They were wrong about her, they shall be wrong about me too._ “What do you think I did? To make your father hold me in such low regard, I mean.”

“I think you did something stupid involving Dareon and your maid,” the honesty took Viserra by surprise. “And whatever it was, it ended in you losing a leg and Dareon his life.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Viserra eyed her niece warily. _She’s family, would she tell? Would she let another of her aunts be consumed by scandal?_ It was too big of a risk, not even Martell knew the truth, Viserra knew she couldn’t tell, even though she wanted to. _But she is family, and I have no friends here. And what would I lose if she did tell the world?_

“It was an accident,” she blurted. “I just wanted one night, just _one night_ of fun and freedom. We went into the city, me and Dareon and some others. We were there all night, and by the time we were riding back we’d drunk so much we could barely sit our horses. But I- I thought it would be fun to race back, so we did. And my horse, it crashed into his. He was thrown off and broke his neck and mine landed on my leg. Daisy helped me out of the castle. It wasn’t _meant_ to happen that way. No one would have known we’d been gone if his horse hadn’t gone into mine, I didn’t even see him.”

Rhaenys was looking at her open mouthed. “Oh,” she said after a moment, “I’m sorry, I hadn’t- I never would- I thought you had… I thought you had done what Saera had done, and that was why your betrothal has been called off. I never thought it would be that.”

“You thought I’d lain with him?” Viserra gave a half laugh, half sob.

“Well, yes,” Rhaenys looked abashed. “Didn’t you?”

“No!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just you were always with all those boys, and you’re so beautiful and they all adored you. I thought you must have…”

“I’m not Saera,” Viserra said, wiping her eyes. “Nor am I stupid. I know what happens to high born girls who lay with men outside of marriage. I never let any of them touch me, I just enjoyed seeing how far they’d go if they thought that I would.”

“Why?” Rhaenys asked, curiosity in her violet eyes.

“I’m not sure I should tell,” Viserra teased. “It’s probably the reason your father thought me a bad influence.”

“Please, I want to know.”

“I’m the tenth born child of the King and Queen,” she began, “I have power and status, yes. But not a lot, not _real_ power at least. But I am beautiful, and for most men that is enough to make them love me, or desire me at least. Either way it doesn’t matter, it’s a strong enough emotion to cause them to leave their senses behind and do whatever I ask. And power like that… power to control someone, it’s addictive.”

“Do you think I could do that?” Rhaenys asked, leaning in. “Make people _want_ to do what I say?”

“Of course you can. You’re your fathers heir, the future queen. For that reason alone you could achieve anything, bend any man, or woman, to your will.”

“How?” Rhaenys face was hard now.

“A smile here, a laugh there,” _She’s thirteen, still a child, I shouldn’t tell her these things._ But she did. “A subtle promise of friendship, the hint at maybe more than that. You will be good at it, I think. Already you have made Maegelle, Dael and Amanda love you.”

“But they’re women, I know what they like and I trust them. Much as I hate the fact, it is men who rule our world. They are better respected, if I am to be queen I must be wed and I must know how to control my husband.”

“Rhaenys you’re thirteen,” Viserra tried not to sound condescending, after all she was only three years her niece’s senior. “Learn now, because you’re right, you must know this. But there are more important things than a husband, more important thing than a mans love. Because in the end all men are liars, and their love is poison.”

“Your mother and father love each other,” Rhaenys objected. “As do mine, and Baelon and Alyssa and so many more! Love is sacred and precious.”

“So says the Septon’s,” Viserra felt herself growing tired. “But I have lost three of my sisters to love, two in dead childbed and one run to a place where people will pay for her love. As for Baelon loving Alyssa, and then losing her was almost his undoing. So, go on and tell me that love is not as deadly a force as any.”

“It is sweet while it last though,” Rhaenys said softly. “Isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Why?”

Viserra shrugged. “I’ve never really love anyone.”

“Not anyone?” Rhaenys furrowed her brow. “Ever?”

“I love my mother and father, I suppose,” Viserra allowed, “but besides that….”

“You never loved any of your knights?”

“I was _fond_ of some of them. Some of them made me laugh or smile. But I never loved any of them, certainly not enough to consider marrying them,” Viserra was starting to feel uncomfortable, so she changed the subject. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

Rhaenys blushed. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I told you my secret,” Viserra smiled, Rhaenys was young, but she was good company. “You have to tell me now, I’m intrigued.”

“You must promise not to tell?”

“I won’t tell a soul,” she did not have another soul to tell, “I promise.”

“Lord Corlys.”

Viserra choked back a laugh. “The Sea Snake?”

Rhaenys flapped her hands and shushed her, “not so loud.”

“There’s no one around to hear, don’t worry,” Viserra gaped at the girl incredulously. “Him? Truly? Rhaenys he must have at least twenty years on you.”

“So?” her niece giggled. “Aunt Daella’s lord husband was that much older than her. And _you_ were ser to marry a man thirty years your senior.”

“An arrow I blessedly missed,” Viserra laughed. “Do tell me, what is it about Corlys Velaryon that you love?”

“Everything!” The princess’ face lit up as she spoke. “He is tall and handsome, yes, but he’s so much _more!_ He’s travelled to places most people have never heard of. When I last saw him he told me he had visited Asshai by the shadow, and when he was there he swears he saw the ship of a woman who tried to sail west of Westeros.”

As they spoke Viserra realised just how much she had missed the company of other girls. She had relished the adoration men showed her, but that could take the place of female peers, confidantes with whom she could laugh and gossip and share her secrets. Rhaenys was closer to her own age than any of her living siblings, and Viserra not only enjoyed her company, but she enjoyed _her_. Normally she wouldn’t have cared a bit about who here companions thought they were in love with, or wanted to hear tales of their past. But she found she did not mind Rhaenys chatter at all.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she told her niece.

“Why,” Rhaenys grinned, “are you _fond_ of me?”

“As a matter of fact I am,” Viserra returned her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I’ll do maybe one or two more chapters on this, not entirely sure.  
> Hope you’ve enjoyed this one! :)


	5. Dreams

In little over a year on Dragonstone, Viserra has seen more storms than she ever had in all her life before that. The storm that raged currently had been hounding the castle for four days and was only just beginning to show signs of tiring. There was a lull on the fourth night, so all the princess heard was the patter of rain agains her window, and was granted some respite from the thunder that had kept her awake the nights before.

It was the break in the storm that allowed the bird through. The raven had arrived at dawn, but the maester had waited until Viserra was breaking her fast till he gave it to her. He bobbed his head and smiled sadly and muttered his condolences. His actions made the Princess fretful, her hands trembled as she unfurled the scroll. _Dark wings dark word._

In this case the saying was only half true. The raven had brought both good news and bad, though the maester’s perception of which was which was rather different to how Viserra saw it.

_My dear Viserra,_ it read. _I hope you are well and feeling somewhat recovered. I regret to tell you that your betrothed, the Lord Theomore Manderly, has died of a fever._ The princess had never felt so relived before, not ever in her whole life. She hid her smile behind her hand as she read on.

_Your father and I miss you dearly, and since you shall be turning seventeen upon the next new moon, we would like for you to return home to the Red Keep within the fortnight. We have sent word out that we shall be holding a tourney here in honour of your nameday. I trust you shall be well enough to travel, as your sister Maegelle has preached to me of the improvements you have made and how well you are recovering._ Signed, _Your loving mother, Alysanne._

All the joy Viserra had felt when reading the first piece of news, was replaced by pure rage. _I am free from one betrothal for less than a minute, and she’s already trying to find me a new one._ A tourney was a very polite way of saying _Cattle show_. All the lords the queen summoned would strut around her and show off their heirs or themselves in hopes of winning her affection. _It grants me more choice than if mother had decided for me,_ the princess allowed, _but it does still force me into a decision I don’t want to make._

To be wed. To be someone’s wife. To be limited to one man for the rest of her life. She would have half her power stripped away from her, her person and all her belongings would become _his._

“What does it say?” Asked Maegelle, as she tried to peer over her shoulder.

“Mother and father wish me to return to Kingslanding. They’re holding a tourney for my nameday,” she made no effort to hide her contempt. “And Lord Manderly has died.”

“I’m so sorry,” the septa laid a hand on the princess’ arm, _mayhaps it’s best I let her think_ that _is the source of my discontent._ “Surely it is rather insensitive to hold this event, you should be in mourning.”

“They are only trying to be kind, in sure,” Viserra lied. “Besides, I have three weeks until my nameday arrives. That should be time enough to grieve.”

“As you say,” her sister smiled at her sadly and stood from her seat. “I’ll speak with the maester, we can’t leave until the storm lets up, but we can prepare for our departure.”

“Thank you,” Viserra rose too. “If you don’t mind, I find I’ve lost my appetite. Please excuse me.”

Maegelle nodded. The princess regretted not eating immediately. She did have an appetite, but she could not stand the thought of remaining in that hall for another moment. She wanted to return to her room and brood over the news, or better yet, go to Rhaenys and tell her. Rhaenys would understand her anger, her hurt. But her niece wasn’t on Dragonstone anymore.

Within months of living on Dragonstone with Viserra, Rhaenys had claimed a dragon, The Red Queen Meleys, who had been the dragon of Viserra’s sister Alyssa. She had been thirteen at the time. That had been the girls proudest achievment, as her father had been seventeen when he first claimed a dragon, and Baelon had been sixteen, but Rhaenys had been younger than them both.

She had asked Viserra once if there had ever been anyone younger than thirteen who had claimed a dragon, neither could say for sure so they asked Maegelle. To Rhaenys great displeasure, there had. Maegelle told them that Rhaena Targaryen had first ridden her dragon at the age of twelve.

Rhaenys had recently celebrated her own nameday, turning fourteen. And with each passing month she grew more and more attached to Meleys. She would go out flying when the sun rose and not return until it set. But she had been caught out when the storm came. The young princess found herself stranded in the air, unable to return home. Thankfully, Driftmark’s sky’s were clearer and so Rhaenys had found refuge there, sending word as soon as she could that she was _“safe and well, and the Velaryons are taking wonderful care_ ” of her.

Viserra could not help but wonder if her niece had planned the entire thing. Rhaenys was cleverer than most, smart enough to know when a storm was coming and not to go flying. And yet now she found herself trapped in the home of the man she hoped one day to wed. It seemed an awfully lucky series of events.

The princess decided to risk the rain and cut across the Aegon’s garden so she wouldn’t have so far to walk. As if on cue, the storm began to pick up the second she stepped outside the castle walls. _I wonder if it feels my rage,_ Viserra mused. She knew she ought to hurry back inside, to stay dry and keep herself safe from being struck by lightning, but she no longer cared. _Mayhaps if I catch a chill I wi be allowed to miss this beastly event they’re throwing me._

Underneath the trees, there was barely enough light to see what was in front of her, and the clouds were closing once again around the sun. Rain hit harder and harder upon the ground and her head, and thunder drowned out the sound of the princess’ self pity. There was no one around, and no one would hear her. As the next bolt of lightning hit she let out all her rage at the small forest around her, screaming as loud as she dared. The sound was almost entirely swallowed by the rain and the trees, but it made her feel better. Until, that is, the trees screamed back.

At first she was simply confused, was this an echo of herself? No, this was far louder and more frightening than her feeble screech. The canopy above her shifted as something rose from the ground to her right. _A dragon,_ she realised, _of course it’s a dragon, it likely came her for some shelter._ All the others had gone into the Dragonmont when it began, but on Dragonstone the dragons were never chained as they were in Kingslanding, here they were free to roam as they pleased.

In the dark of the wood and storm Viserra could not make out the colour of the beast, but she saw that it was _big._ Most of the dragons on Dragonstone were only hatchlings, but this creature looked even bigger than the bronze fury was. _It cannot be Vhagar, they are with Baelon_ , Viserra knee, but she could not think of any other creature that would be bigger than Vermithor, as it is the older dragons that are biggest, and it had been a while since she read about the dragons that her family owned.

Another strike of lightning hit, and in the light she saw the colour of the creature, pale blue with silver spines running down its back. The flash gave it a better look at Viserra too, and now they stretched out their neck and stepped forward until it was only feet away from her, and bared it’s teeth.

“I didn’t see you,” the princess told the dragon. “Was only shouting at the trees, sorry if I woke you.”

The blue beast huffed and a puff of pale grey smoke erupted from its nostrils. It lowered its head so that they were level with Viserra. The princess reached out her hand, and immediately thought she would regret the decision as the beast only bared it’s teeth and growled. But she did not flinch _,_ and after a moment it sniffed at her hand and allowed viserra to touch her.

Viserra has seen plenty of dragons before, she’d never felt afraid of them, why should she? The Targaryens were the last Dragonlords, the creatures were closer to Viserra’s kin than most Westerosi were. But she had never had a dragon of her own. Her three eldest siblings did, and Saera had tried to take one, and now even Rhaenys had one, but Viserra had never claimed one.

_What use would I have of a dragon?_ She would oft ask herself when watching her siblings ride. Dragons were weapons, creatures to be owned by great warriors who could use them as both horse and sword in a battle. Viserra was no warrior, she had no need of such creature. _But I want one…_

The blue dragons scales were smooth and scalding beneath her fingers. She seemed not to mind Viserra’s presence or her touch. _Could I?_ She wondered, _would it be so hard for me to climb upon her back?_ Another lightning strike drove the thought from her head. This was not the time for such fantasies, after all, she could not fly anywhere during a storm.

“I should go,” she told her new friend as she pulled her hand away. “I’ll catch a chill out here. You should go too, you’ll be much warmer in the caves of the Dragonmont than in this dingy little garden.”

To her surprise, the dragon heeded her advice. She broke through the canopy and showered Viserra with twigs and leaves. _Mayhaps I’ll find her again, when the storm is done and the sky is clear, and we shall fly away together._ The princess turned and ran for the warmth safety she could find behind the castle’s walls. _No,_ she thought, sadly, _that’s only a dream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I’ve been a little distracted recently. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think :)


	6. Defeat

The sail from Dragonstone to Kingslanding had been relatively short, but all the same, Viserra has been glad to see the pier and stand upon solid ground once more. On her voyage _to_ Dragonstone almost two years prior she had spent most of her time abed due to her leg. Now, she was able to walk around, or that’s what they thought.

Viserra was a fast learner, and determined to walk unaided as quickly as possible as she found the numerous guards and assistants trying to help her tiring and smothering. It had taken her a matter of weeks to adjust to her new body, learning the easiest ways to walk and sit and how to balance. But she had learnt that on land. A ship was another matter entirely. She had only ventured onto the deck once after they raised anchor, and she regretted deeply. In less than five minutes above deck she found herself falling flat on her face and soon being carried back to her cabin with a bruise nose and ego. She’d stayed in her cabin after that, where there was no one to see how crippled she was aboard ship.

The princess was still seething over the tourney she would have to suffer at her parents behest, and over the fact that she _knew_ this was only a cover to fine her a new match. Septa Maegelle on the other hand was ecstatic; practically jumping for joy at the whole thing.

It was wrong to resent her sisters happiness, Viserra knew it wasn’t truly the prospect of seeing knights nock each other off horses that Maegelle was excited for. The older girl hadn’t seen her parents in years. She was eagerly anticipating the reunion that Viserra was so dreading.

It was taking longer than expected for their belongings to be hauled off the ship. That would not have mattered in ordinary circumstances, as the royal party would ride ahead with their guards and their luggage would be brought to the Keep after them. But among their belongings in the ship was Viserra’s litter, and since she had not yet re-mastered horse riding, a litter was the only way she had of travelling to the Red Keep.

While they waited, several other ships were coming into dock around them. “Mayhaps we should wait aboard the ship,” Maegelle suggested, glancing round nervously at all the new faces around her. “Or somewhere a little further from the docks. Just until we have our horses and your litter.”

“No,” Viserra said impatiently, she had no space in her mind to be concerned with anyone else’s fears. “I am not stepping back on that ship until it’s time to return home. I will not fall and make a fool of myself in front of all these people.”

“Very well,” the septa sighed and gestures to Rhaenys and Dael. “Go with those two men to the stables, his Grace the King should have sent mounts and an escort for us. Tell them who you are and who sent you, and that we are just waiting for a litter.”

The two girls nodded, Rhaenys gave Viserra a sympathetic smile before she left, though the older girl was in no mood to return it. She knew it wasn’t ladylike to be so stone faced and surly, Maegelle was sure to tell her to try look more cheerful soon. But Viserra would not pretend she was happy, not for anyone else’s comfort and convenience. Soon enough however, her prediction came true.

“Try smile a little, Issy,” It was said affectionately, almost pityingly, but Viserra did not even turn to face her sister, she just continued to stare at the ships. “Your face is too beautiful, a frown does it no justice.” That was true enough, but even with a frown the princess was by far more beautiful than anyone else climbing off the ships around them, so again she ignored the suggestion.

Maegelle sighed and shifted her feet, grabbed her sisters arm and leaned in slightly, talking in a hushed voice. “If you won’t for my sake then fine, but please at least try be courteous before fathers Lords. It would not do to offend them.” Viserra was confused as to her meaning for a moment, until her sister nodded towards the ship that had just pulled into the harbor. From it’s mast flew three flags; a white sun upon a night black sky, a black bear upon a green forest , and a grey direwolf running across a snowy white field.

“Northerners,” Viserra recognises their sigils, but her sister named them for her anyway.

“Umber, Mormont and Karstark,” Maegelle smiled wider as a party of four walked down the gangplank and seemed to notice the two sisters stood beside their own ship.

The group consisted of three men and one woman, though Viserra noted she was not dressed as a woman. The princess wore a plain dress of plum coloured wool, as she would only needed it for her journey to the Keep, during which time she would be largely hidden by her litter. The septa, of course, wore her grey septa’s robes. But the Northern lady wore a thick, forest green cloak lined with black fur, and beneath it Viserra swore the woman was wearing trousers and leather jerkin. She snuck a side glance at her sister, _I wonder what Mae thinks of that._

She thought it rather shocking, clearly. For when the northerners arrived and made their introductions, the septa seemed Rather unable to take her eyes of the woman’s garb.

None of the Northerners were Lords, not yet at least. They were all around Maegelle’s age, heirs or sibling of heirs in the lady’s case. She had been the first to announce herself as Alys Mormont of bear isle, and the man to her right was her brother, Jonnel. Both were tall and slim with shaggy black hair and earthy brown eyes. Mae had a hard time keeping her composure as both siblings bowed before them, when by most spoken and unspoken rules, Lady Alys should have curtsied. Viserra found the Mormont woman fascinated, and respected her ability to unnerve the septa. _I must find time to speak with her_ , she made note in her mind. 

The man with the white sun upon his cloak was Robard Karstark, heir to Karhold. He was quieter than the Mormonts were, speaking no more than needed and seeming slightly uncomfortable, though he hid it well.

The last man was Jon Umber, heir to The Last Hearth. He was the tallest of the four northerners, in fact, he was likely the tallest man Viserra had ever seen. The Umber was wide too, though not disproportionately so, and his untamed hair and overall rough appearance made him look like a giant from a child’s story book.

“My Lords,” Mae smiled and nodded, and hastily added, “my lady. I am Maegelle, a Septa of the faith of the Seven, and this,” she gestured to Viserra. “Is my sister, the princess Viserra of house Targaryen.”

“Aye,” Lady Alys nodded, sounding slightly sarcastic. “We noticed. We are much honoured, your grace. My apologies that we did not have a more formal introduction.”

“I thank you, my lady,” Viserra smiled, genuinely this time. She liked this woman, she had decided. “And it is no problem at all.”

“I must say,” it was the Umber that spoke now, “we were rather concerned to see the two of you alone here. Surely the docks are no safe place in this city.”

“We have our guards,” Mae gestured to the men behind them and by the ship. “But we are grateful for your concern.”

“My royal father has sent an escort for us,” Viserra explained to him. “We’re only waiting for some of our belongings to be offloaded.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Umber nodded, and Viserra hoped that might be the end of it, but he continued. “May we then have the honour of riding with you?”

Viserra looked to her sister for some help, but Mae wasn’t paying her any attention. “I’m afraid I am unable to ride currently,” she informed him, letting her smile drop. It was humiliating to admit. “I shall be in the litter, but I am sure my sister and my niece, Rhaenys will be happy for your company.”

Blessedly, two things happened then which ended their conversation and Viserra did not have to explain further. Rhaenys and Dael returned, and subsequently took up a large portion of the Northerners attention, as the daughter of the heir to the Iron Throne is want to do. And then the litter was finally brought from the ship.

Rhaenys clearly saw the look on her aunts face as everyone began to mount up, and feigned some injury or pain that meant she was unable to ride. The litter was a comfortable size for an grown man, so it easily fit two young princesses inside.

The younger girl was grinning from ear to ear from the moment the curtains were drawn. “That lady,” she began, in a poor attempt at a whisper. “She was dressed as a man. And if I’m not mistaken, she wore a _sword_ at her hip, not just a dirk or dagger.”

“I believe I saw that too,” Viserra felt her spirits immediately start to lift at her nieces excitement. “I must admit, I was rather shocked, and at first I almost thought her a man.”

“Not as shocked as Maegelle was though, I’ll wager,” Rhaenys said in a low, conspiratorial voice as they began to move. “I thought the poor woman might fright, she was so pale!”

“Poor Maegelle, it will be a miracle is she’s able to survive the ride to the keep without falling from her mount. Especially now we aren’t there to protect her.” Viserra truly felt rather bad at leaving her sister in the company of those who clearly made her uncomfortable, but she was not about to admit that to Rhaenys, who found Maegelle to the least interesting person ever to walk the continent.

In the year or so Viserra has spent in Mae’s company, she had grown rather close to her Septa of a sister. She was gentler than Alyssa and Saera had been, but not so gentle as Daella. Viserra was closer to Rhaenys, as two girls of an age are like to be, but she respected Mae a great deal. Her sister never pried into her accident or life before Dragonstone, and never forced her to write to their parents, though she had suggested it several times and always asked permission to tell the Queen how well Viserra was recovering.

Maegelle was also far more intelligent than Viserra had initially given her credit for. In addition to knowing the Seven Pointed Star virtually by heart, and being adept enough in medicine to take charge of Viserra leg when she announced she did not like the maester. And Septa Maegelle likely knew just as much about the history of House Targaryen and Westeros as a whole as their brother the Maester did, for Viserra noticed that every spare moment when Mae was not praying or teaching or otherwise occupied with the Viserra and her ladies, she would be reading. Not simply novels and poems as would be expected of a lady, but great dusty tomes that oft as not came from the maester’s own collection.

All the same, _Rhaenys_ found it impossible to comprehend why any woman, let alone a Targaryen princess would give up her own life and devote herself to the faith. _“She could have had_ anything _she wanted, anything at all. Yet she still consented to give it up and spend her days_ praying! _She could have had a dragon if she had wished! I will never understand her.”_

Viserra has found that rather hypocritical, though she didn’t say it to her niece. One day, Rhaenys would be queen if the seven kingdoms, the protector of the realm. She would give up her own life and enjoyment for the sake of the realm and everyone in it, and on that day, Viserra knew, Rhaenys would look back on her childish statement, and understand that she was not so different form Septa Maegelle. They would both be driven by their duties and and devote their life to a higher cause, and it would not be especially fun for either of them.

“What did _you_ make of the Northerners?” Viserra asked in a hushed tone that she hoped the lords outside wouldn’t hear.

“In the brief moment I spent speaking to them,” Rhaenys giggled, moving on from Mae’s discomfort immediately. “I thought Lord Karstark very quiet but otherwise rather unremarkable, Lord Mormont seemed the wildest man I may ever have met! I have never seen anyone with such unruly hair, and his accent was so thick I could hardly understand him. But truthfully, I think he and his sister may be the two most interesting people I’ve ever encountered, they didn’t seem to care a jot about the funny looks they got, and Lady Alys did not even flinch at the stares and comments she was receiving. I think now that I have seen her and her sword, I would very much like to learn how to wield one.”

Viserra would not ordinarily have asked such an open question, as it left her exposed to Rhaenys perpetual chattiness and inability to stop the thoughts inside her head from tumbling out of her mouth. The older princess oft found it rather irritating, and would simply ignore the girls ramblings, but she needed something to take her mind to a happier place now, and gossiping about Northerners with her friend seemed just the thing.

“Do you think father would let me wield a sword if I asked?” Rhaenys continued.

“Yes,” Viserra nodded, smirking slightly. “The same way he _“let you”_ claim a dragon. I think you will find someone to teach you regardless of your fathers opinion. But knowing Aemon, I think it’s most likely he would agree to it.”

“Good,” Rhaenys mulled the thought over for a moment. “Anyways, we were speaking of the Northerners.”

“That we were.”

“Well, as I said, Karstark was quiet, the Mormont’s were fascinating, and that Umber man was probably the biggest person I’ve ever seen!” Rhaenys laughed, then leant in to whisper something, barely surprising a smile. “If he’s that big all over, I’m not sure whether to pity or envy the woman he marries!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Viserra smirked, but her niece had a point.

“They all seemed very… different though,” Rhaenys continued, her tone more serious now. “No Lord or Lady I’ve ever met has been so… bleak. They were polite, I’m not saying they were rude or anything, but there was definitely a harshness to their souls. They say _the North Remembers,_ what is it they remember, I wonder? Whatever it is, it has left it’s mark upon them. You can see it on their faces. They have seen and lived through things we could not even dream of.”

“Well that’s a given,” Viserra let out a joyless laugh at her nieces sudden conspiratorial tone. “The north is cold and hard, and they were all grown men and women. They will no doubt have seen more hardship than we have in our fourteen and seventeen years. And that whole _the north remembers_ thing is just their overly theatric way or saying Winter is cold and hard, and once upon a time monsters moved through the snow. It’s just a cultural embellishment of everyone’s favourite bedtime story.” Rhaenys shrugged and leant back in her seat.

They passed the rest of the ride to the keep with similar idle chatter, occasionally overhearing parts of the conversations of the riders outside them. Eventually, Viserra’s mind drifted to the place it often drifted to of late; the blue dragon she had encountered on Dragonstone.

It had been Maegelle who told her the dragons name, Dreamfyre. It was a beautiful name, and a beautiful dragon, nothing like the fierce black and green and grey beasts she had seen in the Dragonpit as a child. Not even Rhaenys’ Meleys could claim to be half as beautiful as dreamfyre was. 

For most dragons, their colours would darken and lose their vibrancy as they aged and grew. But dreamfyre was close to eighty years old, older than the Bronze fury, and her scales were still as blue as the clearest summer sky, and her silver spines would practically glow they shined so bright.

From Mae, Viserra had also learned the creatures previous owner, their aunt Rhaena. It had been this Rhaena who had so rudely denied Rhaenys the opportunity to be the youngest person ever to claim a dragon, as Rhaena had done it at a year Rhaenys’ younger. Viserra had never met her aunt, or if she had she could not recall it as Rhaena died when the princess was two.

Finally, Viserra felt their box being lowered to the ground. The curtains were pulled back, and at first the light from the winters sun was so bright it almost blinded her. Rhaenys stepped out first, and extended her hand to help her aunt from the litter. Climbing out was always the least dignified part of such rides, so the elder princess was grateful for the assistance. She had to use her own hands to bring her bad leg onto the step, else it was like to become caught on something and trip her. But once she had both her real foot and her fake on the step, and with Rhaenys hand for help, it was easy for her to step out onto the ground.

The King and Queen were awaiting them at the foot of the steps, along with Aemon and Jocelyn, Baelon and his sons, and Gael. Viserra’s younger sister had grown considerably since last had seen her. The girl was eight now if Viserra remembered rightly, though from Gaels shy glances at the people around her and the way she hid behind her mothers skirts, it was clear she had grown but not matured in Viserra’s absence.

Maegelle led the way as they approached their family, with her sister behind her and their niece at t he end. Viserra though briefly that Mayhaps Rhaenys should go first, as she was, after all, the highest ranking of the three girls. But it was too late to make any changes by that point so they stayed in that order.

“Your grace,” Maegelle bowed, but as she stood and tried to speak further, their mother embraced her, almost nocking her over.

“We’ve missed you, my dear,” the queen had tears in her eyes as she addressed her eldest surviving daughter. “Are you well? Did you have a safe journey?”

“Yes, I am well and yes, the seas were fair. I have missed you too, mother,” the septa turned to the King, “I have missed you too father.”

“And I you,” King Jaehaerys spike now for the first time, smiling. Viserra felt a shiver of fear go up her spine, _will they have missed me too?_

As Maegelle moved along to greet her siblings, Viserra stepped forwards and offered the deepest

curtsy she could given her leg. She panicked for a brief moment that she did not know how to address her own parents, so she settled on following Mae’s lead. “Your grace,” she said as she stood, and then inclined her head towards her mother, “your grace.”

To Viserra’s complete surprise, it was not her mother who embraced her now, but her father. She had spoken to him only briefly after her accident, and had assumed that was because he had formed the same opinion of Viserra as he had of Saera. But clearly that was not the case. To her shame, Viserra felt her eyes grow damp as she wrapped her arms around her father.

“We’re glad you’re home,” the king smiled down at her after letting go. “Maegelle tells us your recovery has gone well?”

“Very well, yes, father,” Viserra smiled back. “And I am happy to be here. I’ve missed you.” She admitted, then turned to face her mother. Queen Alysanne’s expression was harder to read than the kings. “Both of you.”

“No more than we missed you,” finally her mother smiled, and Viserra felt a wave of relief wash over her. No matter the qualms she had with her mother, she would not enjoy feeling Alysanne’s scorn or disappointment.

The princess and the queen embraced, then Viserra moved on to bob her head and greet her brothers. She did not have long to do so however, as Rhaenys soon came over and demanded Aemon and Jocelyn’s full attention. Viserra brushed quickly passed Baelon to avoid having to feel any awkwardness, but her nephews seemed keen on maintaining propriety.

“It’s good to see you again, aunt Viserra,” Viserys said, inclining his head. Her eldest nephew had always seemed a child to her. Even now at eleven he seemed half a boy, but he held himself well and was very polite.

“I thank you,” she smiled, “it’s good to see you again too, Viserys.”

“My lady,” the younger boy, Daemon, bowed and held out a hand. Viserra noticed Baelon’s scowl and decided it would be fun to play along.

“My Lord,” she said, hoping it did not sound too sarcastic, as she curtsied and gave the boy her hand. Daemon kissed her knuckles and gave her a gap toothed smile.

The last person she greeted was Gael, her youngest sister. The girl was a year older than her nephew Daemon, but she had none of the boys boldness. Viserra had always thought Gael to be simple as she rarely spoke, but she was sweet enough now.

“I’m happy you’re home,” the girl smiled shyly, and wrapped her arms around her sisters middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I’ve been on holiday and I’m a bit distracted with school at the moment. The next chapter will probably be the last, but I may add another. This was only meant to be half a chapter but it was taking me ages so I decided just to post in on two parts.  
> Hope you enjoyed, next chapter should be up in the next couple weeks :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be different from what actually happened to Viserra, because I think her death was stupid and I don’t like it. Also, Viserra is one of my favourite characters in F&B if not my favourite. I know she’s not really a major character, I just like her and kinda relate to her and I feel quite a lot of pity for Jaehaerys and Alysanne’s kids, so I thought I’d write something about Viserra and how her life could have been different. This won’t be very long I don’t think, maybe 4 chapters but we’ll wee how it goes and I’ll add more tags in as I go along.  
> Hope you enjoyed and are staying safe and healthy.


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